Chapter Two: In Their Alabaster Chambers

The TARDIS ended up getting stuck in a snowdrift. The Doctor was the only one who could move it, and he was reluctant to do so right away, in case she was still recovering from the "big bad bat thingy" that had knocked them out of the time vortex. That description of the creature raised some eyebrows, since apparently it was a rather formidable she, and she had a name: Thuringwethil. Also, it seemed that she had to have attacked them some years before, in the normal progression of time, since thanks to Lúthien, she was dead. Funny how time travel worked.

A few days after their arrival, River left the Doctor deep in conversation with the musician Lindir – something about a lay he was working on about Beren and Lúthien, and troubles coming up with a title.

River was much more interested in exploring than in poetry. After all, finding the Doctor had not been the only reason she'd become an archeologist. A vast cavern fortress like this was impossible to resist. Under normal archeological circumstances, she would be wandering these halls years and years after they were abandoned. They would be empty and dusty and dark, lit only by River's torch. But now they were brightly lit and filled with people. All of the mosaics and carvings on the walls were intact, as were the tapestries, which told fascinating stories all on their own, though textiles had never been River's area of interest. She did wonder, though, how they had been so well preserved; none showed any of the wear one might expect after hundreds of years, like faded colors or frayed edges.

River wandered through ballrooms and forges and kitchens, and countless winding corridors – Menegroth had been aptly named; she would not have been surprised to learn there really were more than a thousand chambers in this place. More than once, River met someone who kindly asked if she were lost, but for the most part she was able to honestly answer no. Traveling with the Doctor, one tended to develop a pretty good sense of direction, in case one needed to get back to the TARDIS in a hurry.

One thing that started to trouble River as she wandered was that she kept seeing signs of recent damage in the halls. The beautifully carved stone pillars bore scars and chips, as did some of the mosaics and other carvings throughout the halls. Some of the tapestries bore smoke damage, or singed edges.

Lady Galadriel found River examining some of the marks near the base of a pillar. "Those were made by battle axes," she said.

River looked up. "They're a bit low to the ground, aren't they?"

A small, mirthless smile tugged at Galadriel's lips. "They are. Neither Elves nor Men made these. Several years ago we were attacked by Naugrim from the Ered Luin. They murdered Elu Thingol in his own treasury, and sacked Menegroth."

River stood, dusting off her pants. "Why?"

"For the Silmaril, of course."

The Doctor had briefly explained the Silmarils to River – their history, and their significance – but had not said what happened to them in the end, or even after Beren had given one to Thingol.

"Oh. Right."

Galadriel gazed at River silently for a few moments. River could almost feel her trying to see inside her, and bristled at the intrusion. But she refused to break eye contact. She would not be intimidated by Galadriel, no matter how powerful she was. Or how unsettlingly keen her gaze was. Or how bright her eyes were. No, River would not let herself be intimidated. River Song didn't do intimidated. Normally she was the one doing the intimidating, and she didn't particularly like the role reversal.

Something about this reminded River suddenly of that scene in The Fellowship of the Ring in which the Fellowship first met Celeborn and Galadriel in that forest place. Lothlórien. Didn't she look into all of their hearts, or something, to test them?

The real (and much younger) Galadriel narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "You know more of the fate of Middle-earth than you would have us believe," she said. "Yet I do not sense in you the gift of foresight."

And good thing, too. River had enough to deal with without that. "Well, time travel tends to do that," she said lightly. "And before you ask, no, I can't really tell you anything." Unless you've already seen the plot of The Lord of the Rings in my head. Damn. "Spoilers, you know."

"River! There you are!" With his usual perfect timing, the Doctor rounded the corner just ahead. "Oh, hullo, Lady Galadriel."

"Doctor."

River tried not to feel too relieved when Galadriel turned her gaze to the Doctor. The feeling of intrusion faded as well, and she still wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not.

"River, I'm told the snow has stopped. What d'you say we go see how the TARDIS is doing?"

"You can go," River said, not sure why he needed her in the first place. "I'm perfectly happy to stay here. I wanted to – "

"No, I think you should come, too. I might need your help with something." The Doctor was studiously avoiding Galadriel's gaze, which was unusual. River frowned. She knew that look. That was his we-need-to-leave-now-before-things-go-south face. He had discovered something and was not willing to try to fix it. That was both unusual and worrisome.

"All right. I'll just get my coat."

The Doctor flashed Galadriel a smile, and left with River. River could feel her eyes on their backs as they walked away. As soon as they were out of earshot she asked, "All right, what happened?"

"I learned the date," the Doctor replied. "Listen, this place has already been – "

"Sacked, yes. Lady Galadriel mentioned Naugrim, whatever they are."

"Dwarves. But that's not important." The Doctor glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "It's going to be sacked again. This winter."

"What? But – "

"Not by Dwarves. Or orcs. By Elves. The sons of Fëanor – remember I told you about them last night?"

"But…"

"Dior has the Silmaril. They know it. They also know he's young, even by the standards of humans, let alone Elves. And he's not as powerful as Lúthien, and with Melian gone, Doriath is more vulnerable than it's ever been."

"So – was this in that book…?"

"Yes. It doesn't end very well for anyone, which is why we've got to get out of here."

"But can't you do something? Can't you warn them, at least, or – "

"Some moments in time can't be rewritten," was all the Doctor said in reply to that, in a tone of finality.

Ouch. Low blow.

They made a quick stop in River's room to fetch her coat – and her journal – before making their way to Menegroth's gates. They got there just as a hunting party returned, which included Nimloth. She was smiling, flushed from the cold and excitement of the hunt, and held her bow like River held a lazar gun. Her expression changed to one of pleasant surprise when she spotted the Doctor and River. "Doctor, River, where are you going?"

"We were just going to pop out to the TARDIS, see how she's doing," the Doctor replied cheerfully. "Back in a flash. Just – "

"Oh, but Doctor, it is quite far to your box, and although it is not snowing, it has begun to rain, and the rain is turning to ice on the ground and in the trees. That is why our hunt was called off early." Nimloth handed her bow off to a servant, and removed her gloves. "You should not go alone."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," the Doctor began, but then Galadriel showed up.

"The Doctor means to leave us," she said. Nimloth frowned, and the Doctor sighed. "But why he feels he must go without farewell or telling us so, I cannot see."

"How do you – never mind. But now the cat's out of the bag, we really should get going. Places to be, planets to save…"

But they couldn't save this place, apparently. River bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't regret anything she'd done, not by a long shot, but her lesson on Fixed Points was not one she would forget anytime soon.

"Doctor," Nimloth said sharply, "you cannot leave like this. Come, we will see what my husband has to say."

The Doctor flashed River a rueful smile as they followed the Elven ladies. "Probably should've known better than to try that. Can't sneak anywhere with Elves around."

"Clearly."

The conversation with Dior was frustrating on all sides. The Doctor refused to explain why they needed to leave so suddenly, and Dior would not let them go without explanation. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had not met the Doctor before, and apparently gotten to know him well enough to recognize that this was unusual behavior. River stood to the side, watching the Doctor and Dior argue, and watching Galadriel and Nimloth watch them.

"Oh, for God's sake, Doctor, why can't we just tell them?" River said finally. It couldn't possibly make that much difference, if whatever was going to happen was going to happen as soon as the Doctor seemed to think. The Elves here were already on high alert anyway. The Doctor glared at her. She raised an eyebrow.

"…Fine, if it will get us out of here." The Doctor turned to Dior. "The sons of Fëanor. They're coming for the Silmaril. I don't think I need to tell you they aren't terribly happy, or that they plan on using force."

Galadriel frowned. "We know already it is likely my cousins will try to recover the Silmaril by force."

Her cousins? River grimaced. She hadn't realized Lady Galadriel was related to those crazy Fëanorions. How awful.

"Yes, well, are you expecting an attack in the snow? Because they aren't going to wait for the spring thaw."

Celeborn had been lurking in the shadows near the door. Now he stepped forward. "My lord, Malthor and I told you of the scout spotted just ere the Doctor's box fell from the sky…"

"Excuse you. The TARDIS does not fall, that was an emergency landing – "

No one was listening. Apparently Celeborn, and others, had dismissed the scout as indicating anything amiss just then. They had thought the Noldor were simply getting a lay of the land and pinpointing the location of Menegroth. Now that it seemed they had been wrong, Dior gave a couple of short orders, and Celeborn vanished to carry them out. Nimloth, too, left the room. River had no doubt that in a very short while the whole of Menegroth would be in a flurry of preparation.

The Doctor turned to River. "Happy now?"

"Somewhat."

"We still need to go."

"But why? There must be something we can – "

"River…"

"Doctor."

"Doctor, how will this end?" Dior asked suddenly. River looked at him and realized with a start just how young he was. He was older than she was, but compared to almost everyone else in this place he was barely more than a child. And yet he was their king, and whether or not Menegroth still stood after the Noldor left, credit or blame would be assigned to him. "If you know that they are coming, you must know the outcome."

The Doctor seemed unsure how to respond. But it lasted only a beat. "Whatever I say won't change what you're doing, will it?" he asked. Dior shook his head slowly. "Then there isn't any point in spoiling it." It was difficult to tell, but River thought his cheerfulness sounded forced. "But it's going to get a bit hairy, so River and I had better get out of your – "

"My lord!" The scout Malthor appeared in the doorway, bits of ice clinging to his hair, and melting on his shoulders. "The Noldor. They are here."